The First Cut Is The Deepest
by EmyPink
Summary: Palmer and Ducky get a little extra surprise on their way home from a crime scene. Written for the NFA Community Autopsy Men Challenge.
1. Nineteen Hours

**The First Cut Is The Deepest**

By EmyPink

_Written for the NFA Community Autopsy Men Challenge_

**Disclaimer:** NCIS is not mine, I've just borrowed them.

**Rating:** T

**Genre:** Drama

**Characters:** Ducky, Palmer

**Parings:** Mentions of Palmer/Lee

**Warnings:** None

**Word Count: **7,976 words

* * *

**Chapter One: **_Nineteen Hours_

"I told you to turn _left_, Mr. Palmer," Ducky said, clearly annoyed as he and Palmer exited their medical examiner van.

"I could have sworn you said turn right, Doctor," Palmer replied, a little defensive as he reached into the back of the truck.

"I think you need your ears checked." Ducky took the bag off Palmer and looked around to see if he could spot his next patient. Aside from the NCIS team's vehicles, no one else was around. Ducky sighed. "And to think people believe _my_ hearing might be on the downwards slide . . ."

"Nice of you to join us, Duck," Gibbs said, walking up to the medical examiner and cutting into Ducky's thoughts.

"Mr. Palmer got us lost again," Ducky replied. Gibbs shook his head. "I clearly told him left, but what does he do, turn right. And where do we end up, you ask. Well, I do not think I have seen such . . ."

Gibbs cut Ducky off with a wave of his hand. "Well, you're here, that's the main thing. You feel like looking at a body?"

"Oh, yes, my newest houseguest," Ducky said, almost cheerfully. "Where is my body, Jethro?"

Gibbs gestured wildly to the woods behind him. "In there. Get Palmer and I'll take you there."

Ducky nodded. "Good, good." And then yelled, "Are you coming, Mr. Palmer? We do not have all day."

"Yes, Doctor," Palmer replied obediently.

"And bring the gurney," Ducky added. "It may be difficult to get back."

Jimmy nodded, but looked warily at the woods behind the two older men. He did not have the best experiences with overgrown spaces. "Right behind you, Doctor Mallard."

"Now that Mr. Palmer is set," Ducky said with a smile, "lead on, McDuff!"

* * *

"What have we got, Timothy?" Ducky asked as he, Palmer and Gibbs walked out from behind a tree, exiting the dreary woods and entering the clearing where Tony, McGee and Ziva had already started processing the scene.

McGee looked at Gibbs, who shrugged. McGee started, "Uh, Petty Officer Hassan Karim, born to first generation Muslim-American parents in 1982. Died, err, we are not sure how he died."

"Overdose of bad-taste movies," Tony interjected lightly, holding up a B-rated movie case in each hand. "Even Probie doesn't watch this rubbish . . ."

"Illegal?" Gibbs asked curtly, cutting Tony off.

"Not that we know of," Ziva replied. "It seems that our Petty Officer just had bad taste in movies. Even I . . ."

"Save the movie talk for later," Gibbs ordered and then turned to Ducky and Palmer, and said, "Can you find out how he _really_ died, Duck?"

"We won't know exactly what killed our dear friend until we get him back home, but I can give you a preliminary report once I get to the body," Ducky replied.

Gibbs nodded. "Good, get to it." He turned to the rest of his team. "DiNozzo, bag the movies and get on with processing the scene. McGee, get Abby on the phone. I wanna know everything about Petty Officer Karim. Ziva, with me . . . we're going to talk to the hunters that found the body."

Tony snickered as he saw the pained look on Ziva's face. But his smile faded as he felt a swift tap to the back of his head as Gibbs, followed by a reluctant Ziva, walked behind him and disappeared into the trees.

* * *

"Come now, Mr. Palmer," Ducky said, kneeling down next to Petty Officer Karim. "Let's see what he has to tell us."

"Of course, Doctor," Palmer replied, wandering over to where Ducky and Petty Officer Karim were, and stopping over Ducky's shoulder. "What would you like me to do?"

"Hand me the liver probe," Ducky said, distracted. "We can at least give Jethro an approximate time of death."

"Yes, Doctor," Palmer replied obediently, handing the probe to Ducky. He peered over Ducky's shoulder and looked quizzically at the body. "What do you think killed him?" he asked. "Because Agent DiNozzo's movie theory . . ."

"Mr. Palmer, if you for one minute believe the theory that Anthony put forward, then I . . ." Ducky started as he plunged the liver probe into the Petty Officer.

"Oh, no, I was just saying . . ." Palmer started, blushing slightly. "I was just saying . . ."

"Nineteen hours," Ducky declared, cutting Palmer off.

"I was just saying . . . nineteen hours?"

"Yes, nineteen hours. That is approximately how long our friend has been dead for."

"Oh, right, Doctor," Palmer nodded, with a half smile. "Nineteen hours, that would put time of death around three o'clock pm yesterday."

"Very good, Mr. Palmer. I can see Mathematics lessons were not wasted on you," Ducky said.

"No, in fact, Math was one of my –" Palmer was cut off as Ducky pushed back the shirt of the Petty Officer and revealed a complicated pattern carved into the chest of Hassan Karim. "Oh!"

"Oh, indeed, Mr. Palmer," Ducky echoed, peering at the unique design. "This is not something you come across everyday."

"I would have to agree with that," Palmer nodded. "It is a rather strange pattern. What do you think made it?"

"I think strange is an understatement, and no, I have no idea what made it," Ducky replied. "We will have to get him back to headquarters before I can fully determine the cause of death, but I think, Mr. Palmer, it would be suffice to say that this poor boy bleed to death."

"I agree," Palmer said, and then nodded in the direction of the woods. "Uh, Agent Gibbs and Ziva have arrived back."

"Wonderful!" Ducky exclaimed as he watched Gibbs and Ziva walk over to him. "Ah, Jethro, perfect timing."

"What have we got, Duck?" Gibbs asked, coming up behind Ducky and stretching out his hand to help the doctor up.

Ducky grasped onto Gibbs' hand and pulled himself up. "As you can see, Jethro, our friend seems to have bled out from that _interesting_ pattern on his chest."

"Interesting is putting it lightly there, Duck," Gibbs replied, taking a good look at the design. He turned to Ziva. "Ziva?"

"If you are asking whether or not those markings are terrorist related, I do not know," she replied. "It is like nothing I have seen before."

Gibbs nodded. "Okay, thanks, Ziva." She smiled lightly.

"TOD?" he asked briskly.

"In the early hours of yesterday afternoon, I believe," Ducky answered. "Mr. Palmer worked out that it would have been around three pm."

Gibbs nodded approvingly. "Good. You ready to go, Ducky?"

"Yes, Mr. Palmer and I just need to load Petty Officer Karim into the van and we can take him home."

"Do it," Gibbs all but ordered. "We'll meet you back at headquarters."

"Right away, Jethro," Ducky responded. "Mr Palmer, the gurney, if you please."

"Yes, Doctor."

* * *

"I think that is everything, Mr. Palmer?" Ducky said as he shut the door of the medical examiner's van.

"I think that's everything," Palmer replied, nodding.

"Good, then I suggest that we get going," Ducky said as he opened the door to the van. Palmer climbed into driver's side and slammed the door shut.

"You could be a little more gentle, Mr. Palmer," Ducky chided lightly.

"Yes, Doctor," Palmer said, apologetic.

"No harm done," Ducky said brightly. "Now, Mr. Palmer, can you try and not get us lost this time."

"I didn't get us . . ." Palmer tried, but Ducky shook his head.

"Just try to get us back to NCIS in one piece."

"I will try."

"Good, now I suggest that we get a move on. We do not want Jethro kicking us up the rear-end because we take our time getting back home . . ."

Suddenly, something shifted behind the medical examiners, and the familiar and audible click of a gun echoed in the van.

"Oh, no," the new voice, male, whispered, "we do not want _Jethro_ kicking us up the rear-end, as you say."

Ducky turned abruptly and saw Palmer sitting stiffly in the driver's seat, hands gripping tightly on the steering wheel, and the black muzzle of the automatic weapon resting on the back of his neck.

"I-I . . ."

"It is okay, Jimmy," Ducky said gently, in his best reassurance voice. "Just do as he says."

"I suggest you listen to the Doctor, _Jimmy_," the man suggested, a foreign accent clear within his speech. "Do as I say and we just might get out of this alive . . ."


	2. A Shot In The Dark

**Chapter Two: **_A Shot In The Dark_

"_I suggest you listen to the Doctor, Jimmy," the man suggested, a foreign accent clear within his speech. "Do as I say and we just might get out of this alive . . ."_

Ducky watched as Palmer turned a brilliant shade of white as all the remaining blood drained from his face. He shot Ducky a panicked look, so Ducky sent him what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

"It's okay, Mr. Palmer," Ducky repeated slowly and calmly, although being confined with a gun-wielding man was not high on his to-do-list.

Palmer replied with an incoherent sound cross between a whimper, a gasp and something that vaguely sounded like "help".

The man with the gun rolled his eyes and sighed. "You certainly picked a wimpy one there, Doctor," he muttered, giving Palmer a dirty look that made him shudder.

"I would quite appreciate it if you could stop scaring my assistant," Ducky said testily. He was getting a little annoyed by this man invading his van and harassing his assistant.

"You do not get to tell me what to do," the man hissed in a low voice.

"Then," Ducky suggested lightly, yet almost dangerously, "why don't you tell us what you would like us to do."

"I want you to drive," he replied casually.

"D-drive?" Palmer said, managing to form his first full word since the ordeal had begun.

"Yes, I wish you to drive where I say," the hostage-taker repeated, then added in a low voice, "if you do not, I will not only put a bullet in your head, but also a bullet in the good doctor's head . . ." He let the threat hang midair, a thin line between life or death.

"Uh . . ." Palmer was once again lost for words.

"I believe that he is saying that he will kill us if you do not drive, Mr. Palmer," Ducky said slowly. "So I suggest that you do as he says."

As much as Ducky hated putting his young assistant in that position, he had no choice. If they refused, they would be killed . . . but the chance that they would be killed after they had outlasted their usefulness was also high. Ducky was hoping . . . praying . . . that by complying with his demands, he would bide them some time and give Jethro and the others a greater chance of finding them.

"O-okay," Palmer stuttered, but hesitated before turning the key. The man with the gun noticed his hesitation, and pushed the gun harder against the back of his neck. Palmer let out a yelp, and Ducky immediately reached over and placed a reassuring hand on Palmer's arm . . . he was shaking.

Ducky, at that point, felt immense hatred towards their captor, similar to the feeling he'd gotten when Ari was threatening Gerald in autopsy. In some ways, Ducky was like Gibbs. Jimmy was _his_, and he would do anything to keep the young man safe, much like Jethro would for his team.

"Just drive, Jimmy," Ducky ordered, but said it in such a way that Palmer nodded and shakily turned the key to the van. It sprang to life.

"Now that is more like it," their captor muttered, but did not remove his gun. "Now, take the road you came down to get here, and then take a right."

Palmer nodded, not trusting himself to say anything else at the moment. He shot Ducky another panicked look, but Ducky nodded and gestured for Palmer to reverse and start driving. Jimmy pressed down on the accelerator and jerkily reversed the van, hitting a pothole as he did so. The van stalled and a loud crash was heard from the back of the van.

"Could you drive any worse than that?" their captor yelled, making Palmer flinch.

Ducky glared at him. "Maybe if you did not make it seem like you are going to shoot him every five seconds, you may get a smoother ride," Ducky glowered. "The poor boy is scared enough as it is. You do not need to make it worse."

Ducky could see the man getting angrier by the second. "How dare you . . ." he started dangerously, but then changed his mind. He removed the gun from the base of Palmer's neck, shifted across and placed it calmly against Ducky's neck. Ducky stiffened and fell silent.

Palmer looked horrified and Ducky put on his best face of reassurance as their captor said, "There, now Mr. Palmer can drive without distractions. But if you decide to hit another pothole, young man, who knows what might happen. Guns can be very unstable items, you know . . ."

Palmer nodded frantically, knowing exactly what the man was implying. He re-started the van. Slowly and carefully, though still shaking, Palmer reversed the van and managed to get back onto the road they had driven on to get there.

"See, now that wasn't so bad, was it?"

* * *

"May I ask where we are going?" Ducky asked politely, about ten minutes into their ride. Up until that point, they had been silent, with only the gentle hum of the van to stop the ride from being completely silent. They were on a stretch of road that was all but deserted; they were practically the only ones around.

"No, you may not ask," the man muttered and Ducky sighed. The muzzle of the gun was still pressed against his neck, and as much as Ducky hated to admit it, it was unnerving him. After all, he was not exactly trained as a federal agent . . . He was used to the dead, not the living and especially not the living with guns.

"I was just merely asking . . . I would assume I know these roads better than you might, judging from your accent. I could help you get to where you want to be faster if you would let me help," Ducky reasoned calmly. If Gibbs, by some miraculous reason, managed to get a hold of him and Palmer, a street address would narrow down their search significantly.

The man looked thoughtful for a moment, but shook his head. "No, I think not. I think it best that we follow the set route. That said, take a left here, please, Mr. Palmer."

Palmer nodded and took the next left, just a little too sharply. The hostage-taker jerked to the side, and the gun was misplaced for a second. The man let out a curse and Palmer smiled a little. He looked at Ducky who gave him a 'what on earth do you think you are doing' look. Jimmy shrugged; it had been an accident. His nerves had been creeping into his driving the whole way, but this was the first time it had been noticeable. Nevertheless, Palmer felt like he had accomplished something against the man, even though it was small, and by accident.

The man managed to right himself, and glowered at Palmer. He waved the gun erratically and the little bit of bravado that Palmer had felt only seconds ago evaporated. "You did that on purpose," he hissed.

"N-no, I . . ." Palmer tried, but faltered as he heard the click of the safety being released.

The man shook his head angrily and lined up the gun. "I do not like being messed around."

"Now why don't we just calm . . ." Ducky tried desperately. It looked like their captor was about to snap and fire his gun . . . the barrel of it was aimed squarely at Jimmy's forehead.

"I am sorry, Doctor," he said, before a resounding gunshot echoed throughout the van.


	3. Heaven or Hell

**Chapter Three: **_Heaven or Hell_

"_Now why don't we just calm . . ." Ducky tried desperately. It looked like their captor was about to snap and fire his gun . . . the barrel of it was aimed squarely at Jimmy's forehead._

"_I am sorry, Doctor," he said, before a resounding gunshot echoed throughout the van._

The van veered to the left as the glass of the driver's window shattered and rained down upon Palmer who was slumped over the steering wheel. Ducky gasped, but his shock over what had just transpired was marred by the very real fact that the van was heading towards an overgrown tree.

The hostage-taker muttered something foreign under his breath and at the very last moment, jerked the steering wheel and caused the van to turn sharply away from the tree. It came to a shuddering halt as Ducky was slammed forward, his seatbelt being the only thing that stopped him from going through the windshield.

After overcoming the initial shock, Ducky noticed that they had avoided a potential disaster by a mere metre. Besides from the broken window, the van was still in perfect shape. Finally remembering his young assistant, Ducky shot both the man and Palmer a horrified look as he lent over to check the status of Jimmy.

Unfortunately, a strong arm blocked him from reaching his goal. "There is no need, Doctor," the man said in an accented voice. "He is fine. I assume the poor man is simply stunned. Nearly getting shot will do that to you." He finished the statement with an almost cheerful manner, earning himself a deadly look from Ducky.

"Mr. Palmer?" Ducky pushed past the man's arm and shook Jimmy's shoulder gently. "Jimmy?"

Slowly, Palmer raised his head and looking bewildered, gave Ducky a small smile. "Well, that certainly was not what I pictured. And this . . . whoa, it's like I never left."

"Never left where?" Ducky looked at his protégé, concerned.

Jimmy shook his head and said in a conspiratorial whisper, "You know . . . the _real _world . . ."

"Real world?"

"Yes, the world of the living." Jimmy looked at the doctor strangely. "This is heaven, isn't it? Because if it's hell, my mum will _really_ kill me . . . But then if I am already dead, I don't see how that could work." Palmer looked confused.

Ducky laughed aloud. It was such a relief to know that his assistant was alive, even if he thought himself dead. "Jimmy, my dear boy, I believe you are in neither in heaven nor hell."

Palmer looked horrified. "Then _where_ am I? It's the place between life and death, isn't it? You are one of those visions come to tell me what the future will be like if I stay dead, right?"

"Mr. Palmer, I do believe you have been around Anthony too long," Ducky laughed. "I am not a vision."

"Then what are . . ." Jimmy started, just as the kidnapper groaned with annoyance.

"You. Are. Not. Dead," he said forcefully, rolling his eyes.

"Wha . . .?"

"I just said that you are not dead," he repeated. "Congratulations. Welcome to the real world," he added sarcastically.

"So I'm not dead." Palmer looked hopefully at Ducky.

"You still have many more autopsies to perform, Mr. Palmer," Ducky said jovially.

The hostage-taker rolled his eyes again. "Now that we have established that you are in fact alive, can we get back to it?"

He then added in a dangerous tone of voice, "That was a warning, my friends. The next time, I really will put a bullet in your head. Consider yourself warned and maybe next time you will think before attempting a little stunt like that again." He glared at the other two occupants of the car and Palmer nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes, of course, sir," he replied quickly. He'd already had one brush with death, even if it was a perceived one, and he did not want another one in the near future.

"Good," the man replied curtly. "Now let us see if this piece of junk can manage to get back onto the road and to our intended destination."

* * *

A few minutes later, the autopsy van was chugging happily along the road. The wind was coming in steadily from the now absent window, making the occupants of the van shiver.

"You know," Ducky spoke up after minutes of silence. "You could have not shot out the window and then we would not be sitting here in the wind."

"You would have preferred I shot your assistant," the man retorted as he sat lazily in the back. Ducky said nothing and the man smirked. "Didn't think so. I guess you'll have to suffer."

Ducky looked pointedly at the man and opened his mouth to say something else, but was silenced when the man brought his favoured gun out and waved it in their faces. He sighed heavily. "I have had enough of this stupid small talk. Can you not make this van go any faster?"

Ducky feigned an apologetic look and said, "If you would like Mr. Palmer to wrap the van around the tree, then yes, we can go faster. If you would like to arrive in one piece, then no."

"How's about I put a bullet in your shoulder," he threatened. "Would that make Mr. Palmer go faster?"

"I don't believe that you would do that," Ducky said lightly, studying the man intently.

"Now why is that?" the hostage-taker goaded.

"Because you abducted–"

"Abducted is such a strong word . . . more liked borrowed–"

"–us for a reason. We are not exactly prime victims, so to speak. We are not federal agents; we do not have as much pull at headquarters as an agent would. So there must be a specific reason for your abduction of us," Ducky finished.

The man clapped sarcastically. "Well done, Sherlock. And who said anything about holding you for ransom and blackmailing NCIS? No, you are exactly who we wanted."

"And who are we exactly?" Ducky questioned.

"That does not matter, Dr. Mallard," he muttered. "All that matters is that your assistant over there keeps driving."

"Well, can you at least tell us what you would like us to do when we get to this unknown location?" Ducky asked, trying to get as much information about their current predicament as possible.

"That is not important, so could you please just be quiet so I can concentrate on the task at hand?" he snapped, waving his gun around. "I would really hate to shoot you for real next time."

* * *

Half an hour later, the man signalled for Palmer to turn into an old abandoned warehouse. As Palmer drove through the rusted gates, he spotted two armed men on either side of the van, most likely waiting to greet them. Palmer shuddered; this was not what he had anticipated when he'd arrived at work that morning.

"Pull over," the man ordered. "And stay in the car until I say so." He unceremoniously clambered around in the back, pushed open the double doors, and stepped onto the ground. He walked over to the armed men, clasping them on the back and speaking to them in a fevered manner.

The men nodded and followed their captor as he strolled back to the van and threw open the driver's side door.

"Out," he ordered as the two men pointed their machine guns at Palmer. Palmer nodded and undid his seatbelt. He bent to exit the van, but one of the men grabbed him by the waist and pulled him out the door. Like before, Palmer again found himself staring down the barrel of a gun.

"You next, please, Doctor," he continued. "And do not try anything funny or your man over here really gets a bullet in his head. My friends, I fear, can be a little trigger happy." He smirked as Ducky frowned.

"Now make your way over to me, slowly and with your hands where I can see them," he ordered.

Palmer watched, the barrel pressing against the side of his head, as Ducky walked around in front of the van with his arms raised. The second armed man immediately trained his gun on the doctor, making him nervous.

"Good," the captor nodded and gestured to the building behind him. "If you would kindly make your way into the building, we can get started."

"Started on what?" Ducky asked as he passed, the second gunman was forcing him into the building.

The hostage-taker smile as Palmer was pulled along behind Ducky. "The autopsy, of course!"


	4. Autopsy Corner

**Chapter Four: **_Autopsy Corner_

"_Started on what?" Ducky asked as he passed, the second gunman was forcing him into the building. _

_The hostage-taker smile as Palmer was pulled along behind Ducky. "The autopsy, of course!"_

"Autopsy?!" Ducky exclaimed as he came to a sudden halt just inside the building. "You must be joking!"

"I assure you that this is no joke, Doctor," the hostage-taker smiled. "I wish you and your assistant to perform an autopsy on our mutual friend, Petty Officer Hassan Karim."

"Why, may I ask?"

"That is not your concern," he replied, gesturing to the other men to lead the two medical examiners to a room on his right. "Now, if you would please follow my friends and I, we can take you to our autopsy bay."

"You have an _autopsy_ bay?" Jimmy exclaimed, shocked. "In _here_?"

"Well, it's not exactly an autopsy bay," the younger of the two gunmen spoke up. He had a soft British accent. "It's more of an autopsy _corner_. I think, with what we had, we did rather a marvellous . . ."

The hostage-taker glared at the young gunman, who cowered and closed his mouth obediently. The hostage-taker rolled his eyes and growled, "Get them in there and make sure they start pronto. The Boss will be back soon. We have already had enough delays."

The two men nodded and shuffled Palmer and Ducky into the so-called autopsy bay. As they walked through the plastic draped over the doorframe, Ducky and Jimmy's eyes widened as they as saw their makeshift autopsy bay. To say it was an autopsy corner was an understatement.

There was one white sheet lying on the floor and a few crude looking instruments sitting on what looked like an inside out cardboard box.

"This is the _marvellous _autopsy corner?" Palmer exclaimed, looking around. "More like an autopsy dump."

"Hey, it was good for what we had," the young gunman defended. "I said we didn't have much."

"That's an understatement," Ducky spoke up. "What kind of group are you anyway?"

"A group that will blow your brains out in a minute if you do not get on with it," their captor shouted, annoyed. He then turned to the two gunmen. "Get Karim from that van. Bring him here and our guests can start their work."

The younger one nodded, but the one who hadn't spoken until now said, "Are you sure that is a good idea? I mean, what if they try something while we are gone?"

"Unlikely, they know exactly what will happen if they try another little stunt," he smirked. The men looked confused, but he just waved them out the door. "Go. Now. Hurry." They hurried out the room leaving Ducky and Palmer alone with the man, again.

* * *

"Is there something we may call you?" Ducky asked politely as they waited for the two men to come back. "After all, it is only fair since you know who we are."

Their captor harrumphed, before saying begrudgingly, "You may call me Aali."

Ducky nodded and said thoughtfully, "That is Arabic, I think. Am I not correct?" Aali gave a slight nod, but offered nothing else.

Meanwhile, Palmer's eyes were roaming around the room. It was dark and dreary; the only light came from a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Palmer's eyes swept across the wall and suddenly spotted something out of the corner of his eye. His breath caught in his throat as he realised what was inscribed on the wall.

"Ah, Dr. Mallard," he started hesitantly, backing away. "I, err, think I know where that design on Petty Officer Karim came from . . ."

Ducky spun around and Palmer pointed at the design on the wall. The design on the wall was identical to what had been carved into the Petty Officer's chest, but unlike the one on Karim, this one had writing circling it.

"What are you people?" Ducky asked as he recognised not what the words said, but what language they were written in.

"Terrorists," Palmer said, before clasping his hand over his mouth, looking fearfully at the man.

"We. Are. Not. Terrorists," Aali hissed in reply. "We are fighting for our people, for our families. We are doing Allah's will and He shall set us free."

Palmer looked horrified and Ducky instinctively stepped closer to his young assistant. This was eerily similar to a certain situation that had occurred four years ago. This time, however, Gibbs had no idea where they were, or what had happened to them.

"We are not afraid of terrorists," Ducky said strongly, but Palmer made a noise that seemed to contradict this statement.

"Ah, I do know about your run in a few years ago, Doctor," he smiled lightly. "And I know that he –" He gestured to Palmer. "– was not around for that."

"So you are Hamas?" Ducky said evenly.

Aali looked disgraced at the mere thought of Ducky's words. "Those idiots know nothing," he huffed.

"Then who are you?" Ducky pressed.

"That is enough!" Aali roared and pressed his gun against Ducky's head. "No more questions, you hear me." Both men could see that the terrorist was losing his cool and so they remained silent so as to not antagonise him further.

"Better," he muttered as the two gunmen passed through the plastic, dragging the body of Petty Officer Karim with them.

"Finally." He removed the gun from Ducky's head and used it to gesture to the body that the two men had unceremoniously dumped on the white sheet. "Get to it. You have an hour, and then I want some answers."

He stalked out the room, calling to the men, "Watch them. If they try anything stupid, shoot them."

* * *

"How are we meant to perform an autopsy in _these_ conditions?" Palmer whispered as he and Ducky knelt down next to the body on either side.

"It is called improvising, Mr. Palmer," Ducky replied. "Think outside the square, Jimmy. It's a challenge!"

"If we weren't being forced to do an autopsy at gunpoint, you would be enjoying this, wouldn't you, Doctor," Palmer noted.

"But of course!" Ducky replied with a smile and then said, "You know, this reminds me of the time Jethro and I were in Paris. Yes, we were out of contact, and in the presence of a deceased fellow. We had nothing more than a pocket knife and . . ."

The older gunman cleared his throat. "Enough chatter, more work. Our bosses want to know what killed the idiot, pronto," he snapped.

"I am just trying to lighten the situation," Ducky muttered before saying to Palmer, "If you could please pass me the, err, scalpel, Mr. Palmer."

"Yes, Doctor." Palmer reached down and picked up the lone, rusty scalpel. He carefully handed the scalpel to Ducky, who positioned it over the man's chest.

"Wait!" the younger gunman said. The other one turned and glared at him, but the young man continued, "Are you sure about this? I mean, he was our friend. It is not exactly, say, respectable."

The older one rolled his eyes. "Rahim, we have no time for respect! The bosses will be here any minute, and if you do not know what killed him, we will be next."

"But, Husam . . ."

"No buts," Husam snapped and pointed his gun at Rahim. "If you were not the boss' cousin . . ." He let the threat hang mid-air. It was clear the two men did not like each other.

"Why don't we just calm down," Ducky pacified. "I will get onto your autopsy, but I would appreciate a little quiet."

Husam gave a small gesture with his head, so Ducky proceeded to slice open the man's chest. Rahim winced. Husam shook his head in response and muttered something that sounds like, "That boy is too soft."

* * *

Half an hour later, Ducky looked up at the two gunmen and said, "I believe he was asphyxiated. I cannot be sure with what without further exploration, or better equipment, but I can safely say that he suffocated to death."

Rahim looked saddened, but Husam just looked bored. "Finally," he muttered. "It took you long enough."

"You cannot rush medicine," Ducky replied testily.

"I suppose not," Husam replied lightly, just as Aali returned with two new men in tow. Immediately, both men stood a little straighter and their weapons fell to their sides.

"You are finished, I take?" Aali asked loudly. Husam and Rahim nodded.

"Yes, Sir," Husam affirmed. "The doctors believe that Karim was asphyxiated."

The new men nodded. "And the DVDs?" the dark suited man questioned.

"Uh . . ." Husam blushed.

"Oh, so you were behind the B-grade movies," Palmer spoke up, but then realised what he had said.

Husam turned his gun on Palmer and the other boss said, "What do you know about the DVDs?"

"I . . . uh, I . . . w-we," Palmer stuttered, looking horrified.

"I assume they are now in custody of the Naval Criminal Investigative Service," Ducky said quickly, saving Palmer from having to explain.

The man who had asked about the DVDs looked thoughtful as the dark suited one said, "Well, there is nothing we can do about them now. It is unlikely that they will connect the DVDs to us, so there is no huge loss."

The other one continued, "Well done, boys. A job well done. Now all that is left is these two." He gestured to Palmer and Ducky.

"What are we going to do with them, Sir?" Husam questioned.

The dark-suited man smiled and turned to Rahim. "Cousin, are you up for a character building exercise?" Rahim nodded, almost excitedly.

"Good." He gestured to Palmer and Ducky again. "Shoot them."


	5. The End?

**Chapter Five: **_The End?_

_The dark-suited man smiled and turned to Rahim. "Cousin, are you up for a character building exercise?" Rahim nodded, almost excitedly._

"_Good." He gestured to Palmer and Ducky again. "Shoot them." _

"Wha . . ." Palmer looked horrified. Unlike Aali in the car, this man actually looked like he would go through with his threat.

Ducky paled. "Surely there is some other way to resolve this issue," he suggested, tyring to remain calm.

"I assure you there is no other way, Doctor," Rahim's cousin answered, matter if factly. "As the movies would say, you now know too much. If we release you, you will run back to your NCIS friends and compromise our operation. We cannot allow that to happen."

"We won't," Palmer managed to get out. "W-we won't say a word, we promise. Why would we? I mean, I assume you know where we live, you know where we work. You can easily come and take us out anytime you like. So there's a reason why . . ." Palmer trailed off as Ducky placed a reassuring hand on Jimmy's shoulder.

"You are babbling, Mr. Palmer," Ducky said softly, into his ear. "Hush, just be quiet. I will get us out of here, okay."

Palmer nodded, and their captors noted that he looked like he was on the verge of tears. Rahim's cousin smirked. "I am sure it will be painless, young man. That is, if my cousin has improved his shot since the last time I saw it."

Ducky remained calm as he looked over to Rahim who was not looking as eager as he was before. Apparently, he was naive enough to think that what he was about to be asked was not going to involve violence of some kind.

"Are you sure about this?" Rahim asked, his voice wavering slightly. "I mean . . ."

His cousin glared at him and said in a foreign language that Ducky identified as Arabic, "Have you gone weak on me, cousin? Has your time out there in the world softened you? And since when have you been brought up to disobey a direct order. I have ordered you to do something, and I expect you to carry out that order, no questions asked!" He finished by raising his voice and striking out with the palm of his hand.

Rahim stumbled backwards as Palmer gasped. "That is what you get when you show disrespect," Rahim's cousin spat.

Rahim reached up and touched the spot where his cousin had struck him. Then he nodded and said in English, "If that is what you wish, cousin."

He nodded. "It is." He paused. "If you would like, we can leave you alone. That is, if you have, say, performance anxiety." Rahim blushed and the other Boss took pity on the young man.

"You two." He pointed to Husam and Aali. "Grab Karim and go." He then turned to the other Boss. "Leave Rahim to it, Hakim. Come, let us get some of this American coffee. I have grown rather fond of the stuff." He gestured to the plastic draped door which Aali and Husam, carrying Karim between them, had exited only moments ago.

Hakim waited for a moment, before shooting Rahim a glare and following his partner out of the room, leaving Ducky and Palmer alone with the young terrorist.

* * *

"Look . . . Rahim, was it . . . you don't have to do this," Ducky tried, almost desperately. He knew their time was running out, but maybe, just maybe, this was the one weak link in the chain.

"Yes, I do," Rahim replied, but did not sound certain.

"No, you don't," Ducky kept at it. "Rahim, if you let us go, we can help you . . ."

"Yeah, because you are going to help a terrorist," Rahim answered bitterly. "I know your American government, they do not help terrorists. They put them in that detention centre, never to been seen or heard from again."

"But . . ."

"No, I am sorry. I must do what my cousin has ordered me to do," Rahim cut Ducky off and pulled back the safety on the gun. "I'll . . . I'll try to make it as quick as possible."

Ducky sighed and closed his eyes. He had tried, but unfortunately it had not succeeded. He hoped that Mr. Palmer was not watching, the young man did not need to see what was about to happen to him. He braced himself and waited for the shot to come, but it didn't. Ducky cracked open his eye and to his horror, found that Rahim was shakily aiming the gun at Palmer's head, and not his own.

Rahim looked over to Ducky as he felt his gaze. "I-I thought it better that he didn't have to see what he is up against," Rahim said softly, as if he was granting an act of mercy. Palmer looked panicked, but managed to keep himself together. He wasn't ready to die yet, and he was not going to give up without a fight.

"I . . ." Palmer started, but his voice caught in his throat. He shook his head and tried again. "Look, Rahim, I have a, uh, girlfriend," he managed to get out and Ducky looked at him with mild surprise. He gave Palmer an encouraging look so Jimmy continued, "Her-her name is Michelle and she works at NCIS with us . . ."

Both medical professionals saw Rahim lower his gun slightly at the revelation that Jimmy had a girlfriend. Ducky, on the other hand, looked unsurprised at the revelation that Michelle was his girlfriend. He knew there was something between them, but hadn't heard Lee referred to as 'girlfriend' before. Both of them took Rahim lowering his gun as a positive sign, so Jimmy continued to talk.

"Her name is Michelle, and she's . . . wow," Jimmy continued. Then he chuckled. "I met her on her first day at NCIS, in autopsy. She took one look at our demonstration and fainted."

Rahim let out a low laugh. "That sounds like something . . ." He trailed off as his eyes darkened. Jimmy did not fail to notice this, and becoming braver since the gun wasn't pointing in his face anymore, seized the opportunity and asked, "Do you have a girlfriend? A wife, perhaps?"

Rahim paled and in his moment of stupor, let the gun fall to his side. Both men breathed a sigh of relief as the gun no longer pointed at them. Rahim sighed and looked to the floor, so Ducky said, "I take it there is a special someone?"

"Was a special someone," Rahim answered, so softly that Ducky and Palmer had to strain their ears to hear it. "She's dead."

"Oh, my dear boy, I am so very sorry," Ducky said sympathetically, finding it ironic that he was feeling sympathy for the man who was about to kill him. "How long?"

Rahim shrugged. "Three years next week," he replied, his voice a little louder now. "Suicide bomber. Her name was Amira." He didn't offer any more details, and Ducky and Palmer felt that it would have been in bad taste to press for any more details.

Suddenly, as if he had been pulled out of a dream, Rahim levelled the gun with Palmer's face. "Look, just let me do my job, okay? Please." He sounded like he was pleading with them to let him kill them. He squeezed the trigger and prepared to fire.

"Wait!" Palmer yelled, arms outstretched. "Please, please, don't do this," he whispered, thinking about Michelle. He suddenly had a bright idea and said hurriedly, "What about Michelle? If you kill me, she'll feel the same way you did when Amira was killed!" He felt guilty for using this man's dead wife or girlfriend against him, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Rahim flinched, but did not lower the gun. "Just-just let me do it!" He almost sounded a little hysterical.

"Think about Michelle," Jimmy pleaded, once again feeling horrible about what he was saying. "Think about Amira. Do you think she'd want you becoming a killer?"

"I am already a killer," Rahim replied hoarsely, a tear slipping down his cheek.

"Then don't add anyone else to the list," Jimmy said softly. "Let me go back to Michelle, and Doctor Mallard back to his mother. Let us have the ending you were denied!"

"No." Rahim raised the gun, but it was shaking so badly that it was likely he'd miss if he fired.

"Don't do this, I am begging you," Palmer continued to try. "Just-just think about Michelle and Amira. They don't want you to do this. We don't want you to do this. You don't want to do this!"

Rahim stepped back as if Hakim had slapped him across the face again. He actually looked like he was about to drop the gun, but at that moment, all hell broke loose.

* * *

"NCIS! DROP YOUR WEAPON!" came the familiar voice as the person swung into the room. "Put the weapon down or I will shoot." Her threat was echoed by gunfire in the background.

Rahim's eyes darted around the room like a deer caught in the headlights, but his gun clattered to the ground and he raised his hands weakly. Keeping her gun trained on him, Jennifer Shepard kicked the gun over to where Palmer and Ducky were before kneeling over and cuffing the young terrorist's hands behind his back.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes, Director," Ducky said, letting out the breath he was holding.

"You two okay?" she asked as she hauled Rahim to his feet.

"Yes, we are fine, Director," Ducky said gratefully. He paused. "I did not expect to see you here, Jenny. I thought Jethro and the team would be our saving grace."

"I was just in the neighbourhood so I decided to join in the fun," Jenny smiled. "I was actually on my way back to headquarters when Jethro called and said where you were. I could hardly drive past and leave you here, now could I?"

"No, I guess you couldn't." Ducky returned the smile.

"Jethro and the others are taking care of the rest of them," Jenny offered, as if she'd read Ducky's mind.

Ducky nodded happily. "Good, good." He turned to Palmer. "I knew Jethro and the team wouldn't let us down."

Palmer offered him a weak smile and stumbled towards the wall, the events of the day finally catching up to him. Ducky looked at his protégé worriedly, but Jimmy weakly waved away his concern.

"I'll be okay, I just need to sit down for a minute," he muttered. Ducky nodded in understanding as another familiar face entered the room.

"You okay, Duck? Palmer?" Gibbs asked as he stepped into the room. After Ducky had given him a look that said 'we're okay', Gibbs turned to Jenny and said, "It's all clear out there, Jen. We have two dead, the rest are with DiNozzo, McGee and Ziva."

Jenny nodded. "Good, so a job well done."

"I guess you could say that," Gibbs replied.

"I'm going to take him to join the rest of them," Jenny said, after a moment's silence and Gibbs nodded. "You'll be okay here?"

"We'll be fine, Jen," Gibbs reassured her, so she exited the room, pulling Rahim behind her. He turned to Ducky and Palmer. "You sure you're okay? Palmer doesn't look so crash hot."

"He'll be fine," Ducky said, and then added, "Could we have a moment alone, please, Jethro. We will meet you outside in a few minutes."

"Sure," Gibbs nodded, understanding the need for a bit of privacy. "I'll be waiting outside." With that, he turned and strolled out the room, leaving Palmer and Ducky by themselves.

* * *

They were silent for a moment, before Ducky spoke. "I am proud of you today, Jimmy. You stayed calm and the way you handled Rahim was impressive."

Palmer blushed and replied, "Not really, Doctor. I was scared the entire time."

"That may be so, but you did not let your fear get a hold of you," Ducky responded seriously. "Everyone gets scared, but the difference between life and death is how you control your fear."

"Did someone famous say that?" Palmer asked.

"No, just someone wise," Ducky replied knowingly. "But it does not change the fact that I am very proud of you." He paused. "And Agent Lee is a very lucky girl."

"But . . ." Jimmy opened his mouth to protest, but Ducky waved him silent.

"No, buts, Mr. Palmer," Ducky said firmly and Jimmy closed his mouth obediently. Ducky smiled warmly at him. "Now, Mr. Palmer, I think it is time to head home, don't you think."

Palmer nodded, so Ducky reached out and helped Jimmy to his feet. And together, they exited the so called autopsy corner and headed out of the warehouse.

Home.

_Finis_


End file.
